Only Child

I am not an only child. I have an older brother, of 3.5 years. I would say growing up, we had our times - both good and bad. There were times when we got along and times of course when we didn't. We shared many a laugh as well as many a tear. We forever will be siblings.

There are things from my childhood that I don't recall. I will never claim to remember everything, not all the good and not all the bad. I remember being active as a child and yet somewhat of a loner. I had a close school friend that I would either spend my days at her house or she at mine. I had other friends too, but she and I spent the most time together. When we weren't inside, we were outside catching sunfish, climbing trees, building, hiking, biking, sledding...making childhood memories.

In the evenings, I don't recall spending a lot of time together as a "family" per se. We always ate dinner together. My brother and I had numerous chores - from cleaning bedrooms, to bathrooms to vacuuming and dusting and then there were the dinner chores. Set up, clean up, prepare...there were always chores, way back as early as I can remember. We did get an allowance for those chores too, but nothing that ever seemed like much in comparison for our efforts or to our friends. We would watch t.v. together and twice a year, we vacationed together, twice a year.

Other than that, I don't remember spending a lot of time doing things with my parents. I remember that my dad was a good father and I hoped to one day meet someone that was equivalent to him as a father and a dad. I suppose I idolized him in so many ways, a pedestal that has been shattered by illness and distance. My mother was a wonderful mom, the mom everyone loved and wished they had but I didn't appreciate until I became a mother.

Maybe in retrospect things are much different looking back on a childhood and youth of so long ago. My son is an only child, in our home. He doesn't have that built in playmate, confident, friend, enemy. He has himself. He has me. At his dad's home he has a half-brother, six years younger whom is also more annoying than anything else.

Tonight is another one of those nights where I struggle with the fact that he is an only child. With each day, it becomes increasingly harder, our relationship, on me. He wants my constant attention. My constant entertainment. He is disappointed when he doesn't receive it. He sulks. He pouts. I try not to be guilted, but as a mother, it's hard, so very hard.

I want what is best for him. I truly do. I want him to have friends. I want him to have independence. I want him to have a doting, loving mother.

I want to be more than just a mother. I need to have my time and my space too. I have responsibilities that I have to tend to as a person, a mother, a home owner and I need to do this when he isn't just away at his dad's. Tonight I gave him another "talk" about how life was like when I was his age. My parents didn't entertain me. I had to entertain myself, or do homework, or clean my room, or read or, or, or...

I felt bad saying it, but it's true. It was one of those moments where you don't want to ever sound like your parents, and yet inevitably, you do. It's in the rare moments like these that I wish for him, that he had a sibling.